Heat Lightning
by halo fire
Summary: The sequel to 'Living Ain't Free'. Heero attempts to live after his confession, and faces the first mission after his breakdown. How will he manage?


h e a t = l i g h t n i n g  
  
a u t h o r ' s = n o t e ] this is the sequel to 'living ain't free'. like I prefer to think of my sequels, those who preferred the ending of 'living ain't free' don't have to think of this as what happened afterwards. what you do think of it is up to you, all you angst-lovers, you. ( I'm one too, don't feel alone. ^^ )  
  
d i s c l a i m e r ] I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters in this story. I make no money off this, which is a sad, sad thing because I'm rather broke. anyway, enough of my woes, on with the story!  
  
  
  
c h a p t e r I ]  
  
"Heero... Heero.. Heero!"  
  
The young soldier nearly jumped at Quatre's yell. When he turned, the Sandrock pilot was staring at him impatiently.  
  
"Look, Heero, I have no idea what's been wrong with you lately, but you've got to get over it. We have a huge mission tomorrow at dawn, and everybody has to be at top notch, which you aren't."  
  
Heero looked down at his yellow sneakers as he sensed Duo butting in, leaning over Quatre's shoulder from the guns he was cleaning. "Yeah, come on, Heero. Get it together!"  
  
What was wrong with him? Ever since his.... admittance two days ago, he was constantly off the alert, not paying attention and getting unusually lost in his thoughts. His only expression was an apathetic stare with hints of misery and pain, and a shameful look when he was scolded at moments such as this. He spoke only when it was ridiculously necessary, relying on body gestures, throaty noises and nods. And even when he spoke, they were only short phrases. In nearly seventy two hours, he had not spoken a complete sentence.  
  
The Wing pilot was thoroughly agrivating everyone. Except Duo, who knew what was wrong.  
  
Two days ago, Heero Yuy made a confession.  
  
Two days ago, Heero Yuy told Duo he loved him.  
  
Two days ago, Heero Yuy died.  
  
His largest fear was made certain when Duo had apparently rejected his love. Perhaps his old self still lay crumpled in that clearing near their safehouse, sitting firmly on the grass, bathing in the sunlight with a scowl on his face as he waited for his body's return. But Heero dare not return to that clearing. Not ever.  
  
The pilot's chest heaved, showing his muted sigh and nod. He glanced up, noticing Quatre looking as if he were to say more, but the Arabian merely sighed as well and walked off. Glancing for a second time, he saw that Duo still sat at the plain concrete desk, practicing his gun assembling speed. He was already perfect.  
  
Heero was about to stand up and go someplace where he could get properly muddled in his contemplations ( not that is was very hard already ) when he noticed Duo about to speak. His eyes couldn't be removed with a crowbar off his sneakers.  
  
"So, about the mission," Duo said, flexing his fingers as he set down a gun. "We're gonna infiltrate this base to retrieve information about a colony that's gonna be attacked. The place is seriously heavily guarded. We're gonna need the big stuff."  
  
Heero's only response was a nod and a strangled grunt of acknowledgement.  
  
He didn't have to glance up to know Duo was looking at him. There was no noise; in fact, it was completely silent. All that existed to Heero was his yellow shoes and the seamless concrete floor beneath his feet.  
  
Then he began to shake. He brought his calloused hands into his field of vision, and watching the quavering fingers. He shook uncontrollably, willing Duo's gaze off of him. That intense, blank stare except for the eyes, the eyes which swam with a million different emotions and thoughts you'd die before you'd figure out what it all meant. But Heero had already died, and yet he still couldn't stare into those eyes.  
  
Finally he heard a chuckle from Duo, so completely unlike the boy's usual raucous laughter it brought more cruel shivers down his back. Then the feeling of stoney amethystine eyes on his sunken body left him, and he heard Duo disassembling the guns and packing them up. He left, and then Heero was alone in the scarely furnished, greyscale living room.  
  
What had he become?! he shouted infuritatingly at himself. He was an abused white lab rat huddling in the corner of its maze, too afraid of what would lay in its path if it ventured out for its prize. Heero had been in paws-width of his prize, and had been beaten off of it by the merciless club of cruel fate, cruel Duo.  
  
Yes, Duo was cruel! he shouted again at himself. The object of his fantasies had acknowledged his love with a look in his eyes and brushed it all aside as a joke. He had laughed, and that pierced Heero's heart to the core. And he had known he was doing it, Heero was certain of it.   
  
His shaking had stopped. He stared at his still hands and the cold film of sweat slowly covering his palms.  
  
The whole world was cruel, whatever god that may lay in whatever heaven above was cruel. He had already thrown it all away, and still he had frustrating dreams which starred -who else?- Duo. Often he had woken up in tears, knowing that these dreams were as intangible as the sun itself. When he sobbed like a broken child in the early morning hours, it cracked his throat and he did not speak for the rest of the day.  
  
Clenching his fists, Heero stood and walked out of the room. Surprisingly, despite his shaking and absentmindedness, his grace and stealth had greatly improved. In a trance-like state, he wandered their safehouse without noise, striding swiftly past his fellow chattering pilots.  
  
Their safehouse seemed to suit his swarming mind. Despite its gray plainness. it swam with complexity. White-washed walls, and large, spacious rooms that had only the most basic furniture, all of it angular, gray and white. The floors clack-clacking a perfect symphony of shoe-soles and concrete, alternating high walls and low ceilings. Their bedrooms tiny, even with the scare furniture and small bathrooms.  
  
And for some reason, nothing ever seemed to stay the same. He could walk through the singular floored building a thousand times over until he blew away into dust and would always notice something unfamiliar about it. As of now, Heero's thoughts were the same. He would focus on one idea, have it interrupted by a second thought, then return to the previous with a different theory. It was infuriating, yet it let him wallow in a million pools of misery without having to have is heart crushed by the same one for more than five minutes.  
  
He strode blankly down a wide hallway, with three doors on either side. The only thing confirming the presence of the doors, were the thin outlines against the starch-white walls and silver door handles. Heero's was the second on the right; he paused in front of the door, and carressed its cool stone with shaking fingertips and pressed his forehead against the surface, closing his glazed blue eyes. His hand stroked the door as it would the slender curves of a lover, and met the ice-cold metal of the door handle. Sighing softly, he pulled it downward and pushed the door open, falling in.  
  
The door shut with a soft click, and Heero stumbled blindly, falling face first into his pillow. Shifting, he managed to come up with a semi-comfortable position on his stomach, hugging the pillow with his face shoved into the soft fabric of the covering sheet, eyes free to stare at the silver headboard.  
  
He sighed. To think... to clear his mind. That was what he had to do now. A mission was coming up, and -like Quatre had stated- he had to be at top notch. This had come so easily before! A deep breath and the ritual slipping of a gun into his spandex shorts, and would be ready for anything. But now... his heart was in his stomach and his brain was in his throat, where it was most useless. And of his pride, his courage? He had no idea where they were.  
  
So he let his mind slip, coming up with all the possible scenarios that could occur on a mission such as this. But, his mind in the freefall state it was, kept staggering back to filthy images of Duo and he would punish himself with forced images of his teammates in danger and in pain because of his lack of focus. And then he would try to become his old self again, hardened Heero Yuy who doesn't feel a thing, who refuses to know what love is, who refuses to care. And then he would cry because he would realize how much of a monster Heero Yuy was, and how useful this monster was. And then it would become overwhelming, and then he would sleep.  
  
However many hours later, there was a soft knock at his door, and then it was pushed open with response. Startled, Heero lurched up, peering bleary eyed at the figure silhouetted in the light of the hallway.  
  
There was a long moment of silence before the figure spoke.  
  
"Come on, Heero. It's mission time."  
  
"Duo," whispered the young soldier as the door closed a tiny bit, giving his the privacy necessary to get ready.  
  
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, then raked his hands over his face and through his hair. This was it. The fight or the flight.  
  
And Heero had no wings.  
  
e n d c h a p t e r I ]  
  
a u t h o r ' s e n d n o t e ] yup. that's it for now. this the project I'm focusing on right now, and I'm telling everyone it will most definately be four chapters long. once I'm done with this one, I'll probably work on chapter two of BSDR, or introduce the many other fics I have in mind. all right, petty servant, do my bidding and review! 


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